


ass-nesia (like amnesia, but with ass)

by macwritesthings



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Hookups, M/M, Rimming, armie is real smart but also like REAL DUMB, crack fic??? probably???, frat parties are full of both these things!!!, i feel like this could be considered crack fic, this legit is based off a tumblr post, this title is a pun that i am proud of at 1:30 am and will be ashamed of tomorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 17:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwritesthings/pseuds/macwritesthings
Summary: Based off of this tumblr post: "my boyfriend was telling me about the time he drunkenly ate some guys ass when he was at a party before we starting dating, and i said "thats weird, i got my ass ate at a party and i cant remember who the guy was" turns out we went to the same party, and he was the dude that ate my ass. my boyfriend ate my ass 2 years before we started dating."YEAH, THAT'S IT, THAT'S THE PLOT.





	ass-nesia (like amnesia, but with ass)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cumpeachx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumpeachx/gifts), [dgsm11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgsm11/gifts).



> I WROTE THIS AT MIDNIGHT, I EDITED IT AT ONE THIRTY AM, IT PROBABLY SUCKS, IDK WHAT I'M DOING, PLEASE JUST LOVE ME AS I WORK THROUGH A WRITING RUT.
> 
> Thank you to dani for the prompt and gina and brooke for encouraging this.

_Phi Kappa house party, May 2014_

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the _smartest_ thing he’d ever done, or anywhere in the realm of the most rational, but he’d finished his fucking finals, he’d turned in his last ever research papers, and graduation was a siren song echoing in his ears telling him that getting drunk was the best, best thing he could do right now. 

As Liz so often fondly told him, Armie is really smart, but also _really fucking dumb_ sometimes. 

Which would be how he found himself stumbling down the hall in the dim light of the raucous house party he and his fellow seniors were throwing, bass pounding so heavily he could feel it through his chest, attached at the mouth and waist and hips to a slender stranger whose face he couldn’t quite make out through the haze of smoke ghosting out of doorways, strobe lights pulsating across walls, and the whatever-the-fuck someone had mixed in the cups he’d been downing all night.

But god, this guy was so _fucking pretty_ in the glimpses Armie did catch of him, slightly shorter than Armie himself so the guy had to press up to kiss him, tug Armie down to match his height, and when they finally staggered through the doorway to Armie’s room, getting the door closed behind him, he realized his colossal mistake: he’d already begun packing to go home. The room is full of boxes and half his shit is sprawled across the bed, waiting to be packed.

So yeah, sometimes he’s really fucking dumb.

He started to turn, suggest they find another room, but before he could the guy’s mouth latched on to his neck and Armie’s hands tangled in his hair (the slightest hint of curls around a jaw that looked so sharp it could cut glass), and the guy nudged him towards the desk, hands sliding down Armie’s waist to grope his ass, his breath hot against Armie’s throat, and he dimly heard himself moan.

He watched the guy lick his lips as he pulled away, barely lit up by the streetlight outside, and then Armie’s being pushed backwards, ass hitting the desk in the corner, ironically the cleanest surface in the room at the moment, and the guy in front of him leaned up to kiss him again, tongue running over Armie’s lower lip an instant before he sank his teeth in, his hips pressing forwards to roll against Armie’s in a move slightly uncoordinated, but no less hot as a result. 

“Turn around?” This guy’s voice was deeper than Armie would have expected, husky and slurred slightly from the alcohol and the joint Armie had seen him with earlier in the evening. He nodded, turning to brace himself on the desk, and he felt his stomach jump with anticipation as the guy’s hands ghosted over his ass, tugging his shorts and boxers down in one movement, and he was definitely drunker than he thought because he didn’t even remember this guy unbuttoning his shorts. That thought is cut short when the guy kneads the flesh of Armie’s ass, causing him to moan and his hips stutter forwards against the desk, his head falling onto the arms. Hookup Guy, Armie’s drunk brain thoughtfully supplied, has _amazing_ hands, long fingers that dig into his hips _just right_ and trailed down the curve of his ass feather-light before just _grabbing_ him and holding him open and Armie swore, shifted his hips for any kind of friction as Hookup Guy’s breath ghosted over his hole and Armie very suddenly had A Moment Of Clarity about where this was going and--

And then Hookup Guy’s tongue was _on him_ and Armie forgets how to breathe, because it had been over a year since he had been on the receiving end of this, and he honestly sort of forgot how much he _loved it_. His hands scrabbled for purchase on the edges of the desk, and he can hear himself whimpering as the flat of Hookup Guy’s tongue just dragged over him, slow and repetitive and with so much more coordination than he expected. He can hear his breath gasping out, although it’s less breathing and more nearly soundless pleas of _fuck, yes, please_. 

He pressed his forehead into the cheap plywood beneath him and tried to keep his knees from shaking as Hookup Guy pulled back and spread him open even _wider_ , making Armie moan, shake, embarrassment and arousal warring inside him until the moment this guy _spits_ on his asshole before going back at it, tongue worming its way inside him, and Armie is gone, he’s fucking dead, he’s writhing back on the tongue in his ass and the hands pressing him against the desk, his hips bucking into the empty space in front of him as his cock aches in the sticky, hot air in his room, and honestly, Liz was fucking _wrong_ , he was so smart, this is the best decision he’d _ever_ made. 

He reached down with one hand to curl it around his cock, his hand too dry and the movements too fast, but he didn’t care, he _has_ to come, his gasps mingling with the fucking sounds of _contentment_ coming from the guy whose tongue was currently buried in his ass, and when Hookup Guy worked one finger in alongside his tongue, Armie shouted, cock jerking in his hand as he came, streaking the fraternity-issued desk with a mess he’ll have to clean up eventually. He pressed his cheek to the top of the desk, chest heaving, knees weak, and before he could really register what was happening, Hookup Guy was tugging Armie’s boxers back up, pressing a brief kiss to the curve of his waist, and then….

Then the door opened and closed, and Armie was left with the bass shaking through his body, trembling through the aftershocks of the best drunk sex he’d ever had, _alone_.

What the fuck?

_New York City, December 2018_

“Why is all your shit so _heavy_ ,” Armie complained, hoisting another box in his arms and craning his neck to read the side of it. “Seriously, Timmy, we don’t have room for a whole fucking library, this is like the ninth box of books I’ve carried upstairs--”

Timmy snorted and leaned in to kiss Armie’s jaw, taking the box from him. “You’re such a baby,” he said fondly, and Armie takes a moment to admire the wiry muscles in his arms, the shift of his biceps as he adjusts his hold. “It’s a _two-bedroom_ , Armie, we have room for books. Besides,” he added, attempting to look smug but only succeeding in looking giddy. “You’re the one who asked me to move in with you.”

And, well, Armie thought, grinning and grabbing a box to take up after him, he wasn’t wrong. They’ve been dating for two years, and since Timmy started grad school they year before he’d been spending more time at Armie’s place anyways, because he lived closer to Columbia, and it had just made sense. And maybe he also just liked having Timmy in his space, waking up to sleepy green eyes and mussed curls and Timmy stealing his coffee on weekends and muttering to himself as he did homework at the shitty plywood desk Armie had liberated from his old frat house the year after he’d graduated.

As he deposited the box in the spare bedroom, he looked around, watching Timmy neatly stack his box with the others, then scan the room, frowning at the desk. Armie crossed to him, wrapping his arms around Timmy’s waist and nuzzling his neck, not used to the shorter hair yet, the way the curls don’t tickle his nose anymore, and Timmy huffed out a laugh. “This desk is a monstrosity, you know that, right?” he asked, reaching up with one arm to pet through Armie’s hair. “I get that it was free, but I’m going to need a bigger one for the whole setup, with--”

“Your computer and everything, I know,” Armie finished for him as he pressed a kiss behind Timmy’s ear. “And we’re looking for a real desk, but in the meantime you can use my monstrosity. Besides, I have some good memories with this desk.” Timmy rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure you and the frat house desk spent a lot of time doing homework together,” he droned, and Armie pinched him.

“Sigma Cum Laude, pal, and don’t you forget it,” he said, and Timmy laughed.

“How could I, with you bringing it up all the time?” He turned to kiss Armie properly, lingering over it. “You know, I realized, with this happening, us moving in and stuff….I’m not having second thoughts, get that panicked look off your face,” he added, and Armie smiled innocently, not admitting for a second that he was panicked that maybe Timmy was having second thoughts. “But we went to the same college--I mean, yeah, I graduated two years after you, but how did we never meet?”

“Well,” Armie began, tapping Timmy’s nose with one finger, “that could be because you were busy in a completely different department, mister BFA, while I was across campus in Engineering. Also, the two years behind me thing probably helped.” Timmy rolled his eyes and bit at Armie’s finger, making him laugh.

“Yeah, but I pledged fraternities.” He wiggled out of Armie’s hold to begin rooting through boxes. “You were Phi Kappa, right? I went to some of those parties.”

Armie shrugged, settling on the edge of the desk. “We threw a lot of parties, baby. I was really drunk for most of them, as well, and only remember a couple details about a handful of them.” Timmy turned and smiled at him over his shoulder.

“I actually, uh...hooked up with a guy in your frat house,” he admitted, cheeks faintly pink, and Armie’s eyebrows shot up.

“I’m sorry, you _what_?!” he exclaimed, stretching out one foot to nudge at Timmy until he overbalanced, stumbling and laughing. “You fucked someone _in my house_ and I was probably there, and we didn’t even begin dating until _two years later?_ I’m offended, honestly.”

Timmy was grinning at him, the flush curving down his throat under the collar of his shirt. “We didn’t really, um….fuck, actually, I just sort of--” he rubbed his hands over his face, huffing nervously. “I rimmed him until he came and then left because I. Came in my pants and didn’t want him to know.”

Armie went very still, and then his mouth dropped open, finger shooting up to point accusingly at Timmy. “Holy _fuck_ , you’re Hookup Guy.” Timmy dropped his hands, brow furrowed, and Armie pointed at the desk he was leaning on. “You fucking. Bent me over _this desk_ and then _left_ and it’s because you _came in your pants_?!”

Timmy just blinked at him, then at the desk, then back at him, and then (if possible) turned even more red, covering his face with his hands again. “Oh my _god_ ,” he said, the words muffled by his hands. “Holy shit, oh my god.”

Armie gleefully pushed off the desk and crossed to Timmy, tugging his hands down and grinning at him. “You came in your _pants_ ,” he said, and Timmy made a noise akin to a dying whale, pressing his face into Armie’s shirt. “Holy shit, you loved my ass _so much_ ,” he continued, “that you literally had to _abandon_ me out of--”

Timmy’s hand came up to cover Armie’s mouth, his eyes narrowed. “Finish that sentence and I will _never_ fuck you again,” he said, and Armie just grinned behind his hand and licked Timmy’s palm until Timmy dropped his hand to wipe it on his shirt.

Armie wrapped his arms around Timmy, drawing him in and kissing his temples. “I told you I had fond memories with this desk,” he said, and Timmy laughed against his neck, peering up at Armie.

“Well, then maybe we need to give it a proper send-off,” he said, reaching behind Armie to squeeze his ass.


End file.
